The Vast Expletive
by redhaze03
Summary: The Signless's final hours... and Karkat's calm before the storm.


I don't know… I'm sorry… The words didn't want to come, but my muse decided to become my kismesis and it is such an abusive relationship! I HAD TO GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD! T_T

Signless ◊ Subjugglator

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It had come to this. Deep down inside he had always known it would come to this. The only hope he ever dared to dream was that he could have been given more time. That maybe, just maybe, he would have seen the first buds of fruition for his life's calling. For a moment he thought he had, but that had been a lie. Those who had listened to his word with rapt attention, those who had gotten to their feet with cries of righteous anger, stood all around him now, taunting, jeering, throwing expletives and rocks, and anything else they could find at hand. All but his most loyal of followers had turned on him. Had turned him in to save themselves from the slaughter of the war that had broken out over his name. The name they didn't know he had.

He couldn't blame them, he had never wanted anyone to die in his name. That hadn't been his ideal, and he certainly never encouraged such thoughts. But when you are from a violent, warrior race, one would suppose it was inevitable.

Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe he wasn't long for this world either way. His genetic defect left a lot of unknowns in his life. Questions that had plagued him since he was a grubbling, far before the visions had ever begun. Where had this flaw come from? Had there ever at any time been others like him? How long did he have to live? The lower in the caste your blood ranged, the lower your general life expectancy... Blood of rust usually lived just over a dozen sweeps, maybe two if they were lucky, while royal blood seemed to live on forever if uninterrupted. Just where did he lie in the spectrum of life expectancy?

It was why he hadn't wanted to open his heart to Her. His most loyal, most dedicated follower, his Disciple. He had seen her in his dreams before he had ever met her, just like the woman who raised him, his mother, and just like the telekinetic mage that comprised of his inner circle. She was beautiful and held a natural kindness in her that took time for the others to dare to reveal within themselves. In his dreams they had been close as well, though not like this. In his visions they were friends, she was sweet and almost helpless, he had protected her. Now it was she that protected him in everything she did, she protected his words, protected his visions for future generations... she protected him from himself.

She was his everything, she completed every part of him. She was the pale the soothed his ragged soul and brought him peace of mind, and when they fought passionate fights that would make his blood boil, she was the the darkest black that consumed him whole. When his visions ripped at his mind and tore at his heart and he fought with himself, she was the stern gray that reigned him in and forced him to see logic, and when all was grim and he wanted to give up she was the blazing red that set his soul alight with passion and gave him drive.

It was a constant battle in his mind to see her as she was now, and not as she was in the visions. Sometimes he was hard to see the difference. She wanted so much from him, though she never voiced it. He could see it in her actions. He had refused to reciprocate at first. It wouldn't have been fair, the thought of the pain she would suffer after his death ruptured his heart beyond thought and emotion. It was this same pain that had finally allowed her in, helpless but to need her to soothe the ache that he would one day cause her. He worried for his end at every sweep. The urgency of the unknown driving him closer to her, and to get his message across, emboldened by the looming threat of the end that he couldn't foresee.

A part of him wished that his dearest friends had abandoned him, too. Perhaps then they could have been spared... His mother, his best friend, and his lover, all of them would face the wrath of the Highbloods simply for refusing to abandon him. He wished they would, he wished to spare them the pain that he was going to feel. He would take it all within himself and spare them all if he could.

The procession to the Condesce's throne had been long and arduous, leaving him alone in his thoughts for far longer than he would have ever liked. Beaten and brutalized he was thrown before the High Queen, the vivid red blood pouring from his wounds a stigma that drew gasps and yells of rage and anger from the crowds. He was nothing but an anomaly, a freak of nature, how dare he ever try to speak to them! To preach to them! How could they have ever listened to one as low and wrong as him? His very existence was a blemish on their society, and he was now to be dealt with.

He had never met the Condesce before, though the tales of horror surrounding her traveled far and wide, beyond their planet and the many they had conquered in her name. So he was shocked by the duo vision of the murderous female before him, and a young girl with wide, kind eyes looking down on him in worry. He had seen her before, as he saw her now.

'You're hurt..!'

"You have been brought before her imperial highness, the Grand High Condsece, under the charges of treason, heresy, and instigating a massive, secretarian war the likes of which have not been seen in thousands of sweeps. You're very blood is an eyesore that shouldn't have been allowed to live as long as you have. Your very existence is a stain on our society."

'Oh! It looks bad! Here, let me see.'

"A stain that will be eradicated for the sake of our society if we are to survive."

'Oh, hehe! I guess it's not so bad after all! Still, you should always be careful. You always make me worry so."

"Do you have anything to say for yourself? Words with which you hope to redeem yourself with? I would so enjoy hearing them"

Her eyes were cruel and cold, large and bright and full of love for every living thing, disdain for all of life. Her voice was harsh, devoid of emotion, the sweetest lilting of bells he had ever heard. Her smile was sharp and cruel, rending asunder anything that dared amuse them into such a state, her lips were as soft as petals as they caressed his brow.

It took great effort just to lift his head to hold her gaze, and she smiled at him, sweetly, kindly, a twisted curl of lips that seared ice across the very soul. His throat was parched, his voice a weak rasp.

"Blood of crimson red... and blood of the purest, royal magenta once walked side by side..."

"What?"

"Equally, they traversed the road of life, one no better than the other."

"What is this?"

"Between them was an understanding of kindness and compassion. My blood... and your blood... blood of blue, of rust, and teal, and green and yellow, every color in the hemospectrum."

"Enough of this nonsense!"

"Together, side, by side, by side they fought for peace... Your blood... and my blood... beating in time, with hearts as one. No division, dissension, equal to one another perfectly and completely before the eyes of the Mother of all Monsters."

"Silence!"

The air was forced out of his lungs by a fist to his gut, almost upheaving what little was left in his stomach. The crowd had fallen silent in shock. How dare he speak so freely to the queen? He was being foolish, he knew it... but he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. Even if he showed penance he could never be allowed to live. His life was forfeit in order to reinforce the divisions he tried to hard to break apart. He could feel the crimson of his blood boiling over, and he knew his normally gray eyes glowed with crimson fire. A rage unlike he had never known was building deep within him, now just below the skin.

"What makes you so much better than me?" His voice was a calm whisper that echoed far and wide, and then he spit at her feet. He saw the royal blood, like ice, harden her eyes, her glare piercing him like jagged crystals. He pressed on, "When blood is spilled, the ground does not care if it is red of purple... It is all equally as filthy as it stains the floor."

"ENOUGH! I've heard enough of your heresy! Summon the Subjugglator!"

Murmured sounds of fear echoed in his ears, his own heart falling still. This would be his end now, no one survived the wrath of the subjugglators, and this one was the Condsece personal attack beast. His sadistic brutality was the source night terrors that kept little grubs in line.

He was massive, tall, and wild. His grin was wide and psychotic, eyes lacking the light of lucidity looked him over slowly, like a beast that had just fallen upon his prey. Eyes of a rabid monster that only knew to end life. Behind him he dragged a spiked club, stained with the dried and dulled different colored bloods of all those who opposed his queen.

The subjugglator loomed over him, licking his lips ravenously. His face was painted like a vision straight out of his nightmares. He roared and the crowed cried out in fear, feeding into his blood lust. His eyes were wild, devoid of cognition, like he wasn't even there. How badly had this beast been beaten before he could be the mindless attack dog of the Condsece? Even now, when this creature looked thrilled at the prospect of ending him, he felt only pity for him... sympathy for the plight he must have gone through at some point in his life.

How much pain and torment had he gone through before he lost his ability to discern reality from the dark abyss his mind was surrounded in? He looked up at this wild and broken man, and his heart ached. This man who had once been his friend... the duo vision returned.

A hand reached out to him, a bright and light heartening smile painted brighter in the face of a jester. That hand raised up high in the air, spiked club glinting with different colored bloods in the pale wax of the emerald green moon.

He smiled, his laughter would fill up a room, making everyone feel light and warm. It was psychotic, and sadistic and made your blood run cold.

He came to him, his best friend, scared and wanting his reassurance. He came at him, his enemy, enraged and wanting only his end to satisfy his thirst for blood. He wanted the fear to go away, the assurance that tomorrow would be better. He wanted to cause him pain so that maybe his own would be slaked for but a moment. He was scared, and his heart was in pain. He was angry, and all his heart knew was pain

Help me... hElP mE... HeLp Me... help me... HELP ME!

The vision shot through him to his core like a lightening bold. He had never felt anything like it before it before. It moved him to action before he could even think to stop himself. He charged, the Subjugglator roared in rage and lunged to the attack.

They met, crashed, a flurry of wild motions and then all was still. His heart raced as he embraced his best friend, the wild killer, holding his taller frame to himself. With trembling fingers he soothed the savage, royal beast, murmuring words of comfort against his ear. He felt the other shake with shock and rage. He would roar, and in return he would gentle shush him and stroke his hair some more. His shakes gave way to soft quivers, the roars dying down to ragged breaths.

His heart skipped a beat. He smiled and looked up into confused eyes of indigo, seeing the rage and lust for blood gone, leaving behind only a confused and timid creature.

Just as She would soothe him in their days of travel, he now knew that he could soothe this beast. He could almost laugh... He was the Subjugglator's moirail. How had he known? How could he have known? His lifework suddenly seemed worthwhile once again.

"Sssssssh... it's okay... everything will be okay..."

He looked so lost and confused now, calm for maybe the first time in his life. "W-wha...?"

He gently cupped the subjugglator's cheek, smiling kindly when the taller troll leaned into his touch with a gentle purr. "It's alright..."

"How...?"

"I-!" his breath hitched, a hiss of pain escaping as sharp pain blossomed from his right side. It was a shock to see the the bright blue feathered end of the E%ecutor's arrow jutting out from a freshly bleeding wound.

It took a moment longer for the Subjugglator to realize what had happened, and with a renewed roar of rage he charged at the E%excutor, his loyalties suddenly to the bleeding paraih he had been brought to kill.

"TAKE HIM DOWN!" he heard his queen's order a moment before he was pinned, kicking and thrashing, by a group of loyal Ruffiannihilators. Alone they could never hope to take him down, but together they barely managed.

"You've disappointed me, Subjugglator..." the Condsece sighed as she cooly regarded her once loyal dog beast. "You above all others I would have thought loyal to me till the end. But I suppose one cannot help who they will feel pale for. I'm glad to have gotten to know the one who would have been your moirail... the soothing balm to your anger..." She stood up gracefully, waves and waves of her dark hair rippling behind her with the movement. She walked up to beast, now held captive by six of her Ruffiannihilators.

The soothing touch to his cheek just sent ice seeping into his core, she gave him an almost sympathetic look. "Under different circumstances I could have let you keep him... But this betrayal... It will not go unpunished. And now you get to watch him die." A cruel smirk twisted at her full, black lips and she abandoned him to once again take her throne.

"Tie the mutant to the irons! That will be his penance for his acts of treason and heresy! Burn them hot, and hotter still until he renounces his heretical ways!"

The Subjugglator's bellow of rage drowned out all other sound, and it took six more just to hold him down until he was subdued. The Condsece would show him mercy, with some retraining he would return to his duties and without his pale mate there would be no more thoughts of betrayal.

The Signless pariah would not be so lucky. He struggled and cried out in rage for his friend as he was beaten and taken down. Heedless of his own well being he cried for mercy for the beast who would have killed him. It was a shock to his system when the burning irons snapped into place around his wrists, chained to the imperial flogging jut, a disgrace for all to see.

The shock lasted for what felt a small eternity, really it was only seconds... And then he screamed... a deep, stomach wrenching, ear drum shattering sound that rung out far beyond the cosmos, spreading his pain for light years in steady, sonar waves. He was whipped, flogged, cropped, lashed, beaten with bare fists. It could have lasted mere minutes, it could have lasted hours, days... How long did it take everyone to grow tried of watching his suffering and simply leave?

His mother, where became of her? Through the haze of pain he might ahve seen her handed to a seadweller... and his mage? What of him? He knew his mage had a gift, surely it would spare him from this sort of pain? And his Disciple? What would become of her...? He felt a churning in his gut, far worse than the bone searing pain of the shackles to just think about it. Please... please, any higher being listening... spare her... if nothing else, spare only her...

Hours passed, or was it days? How could he know... there was no way to know... time seemed to drag on for sweeps then pass by all at once. All there was, was pain... Every waking moment was white hot pain and not even the black abyss of unconsciousness could grant him any mercy.

Days passed... or was it seconds...? His blood was nearly all spilled out now... they took turns spilling it, reminding themselves and everyone just what sort of freak of nature he really was... they taunted him... even the ones he wanted to save... they took their turns to spare their own lives...

All the trolls... equal as one race... came to torment him and spill his blood... he could haev laughed... it was almost funny... it was exactly what he wanted, and the furthest thing from his heart's desire. His shoulders shook, a weak, rasping sound that tried to pass itself as a laugh wheezing past his lips. He laughed... as best as he was able to he laughed, and deep in his heart burned a rage the likes that troll-kind had never felt before.

The race he had tried to save... the hemospectrum that divided them, his blood... that drew them together in their fear and rage... He hated it... he hated it all... With his final breaths he screamed his rage far and wide, a vast expletive to be his final Word... They could doom themselves, he washed his hands of them all... Washed them in his own vile blood of purest crimson. He cursed them with his rage! May it ring far and true and bring all of their undoing!

The irons began to cool and his body sagged as the world slowly faded to black around him... the last thing he saw... was the Subjugglator... beaten and broken, but standing before him, lifting his broken body off the flogging jut and carrying him as one would a precious doll... He tried to tend to his wounds... but it was too late... his body was dead and only his soul still lingered... his rage cooled just like the irons still encasing his seared wrists...

A single tear of indigo cooled his still fevered skin... and then he was gone... His body would be burned and only the cuffs would remain... In the end he could still not hate them like he wanted to... and so he wove his true message of compassion and equality into the very fabric of his curse. The only salvation for his race now woven into it's very undoing... it would all be up to the next generation now... It was up to the heir of his great burden...

His heir... The true salvation of their race...

Karkat Vantas was sacred for his life... Two of his friends were dead... more than likely more... and the troll who had titled him to be his 'best friend' had gone batshit crazy and was probably killing the rest as he spoke. He had seen the blood... Equius... God, what made him think that blood order freak could have ever possibly raised a single strong finger to try to stop him? Tavros's blood as well was smeared on the walls, contributing to the grotesque mural that Gamzee was taunting him with. And Nepeta... The sight of her blood was an unexpected punch to the gut. He hadn't known how much he had cared until then.

Was it too late for them? Could he save them? Could he try even if he knew they really were alive? He was so scared, it was all he could do to leave his final message to Jade now. He glanced at the stupid picture behind him. The style was so Terezi, but the ink was indigo blood... He wasn't a moron! He knew when he was being called out... It was a trap, Gamzee wanted to see him... Could he do it? Could he go, knowing it was a trap? Knowing that it probably wasn't the only trap and as he sat here, typing his vast and long list of sins, the few remaining living trolls were gathering on the roof to be executed one bye one by the one troll they thought they'd never have to fear?

Well Gamzee could have Eridan, the fuck deserved what he got! But... He had left Sollux behind... Sollux didn't know that Gamzee was off his fucking unicycle and going on a merry murdering spree... and Terezi... Terezi!

And after that? If he failed and the stupid pink monkeys arrived here after the Scratch, what then? Would he have simply led them to their own slaughter? Could he live with that?

What could he do? How could he stop it? He didn't now... but he couldn't just hide anymore... he had to meet this head on... and if he died, he'd at least have the consolation that he didn't die, running and hiding like a frightened wriggler in the Brooding Caverns doomed to die by the trials. If he died, he would die, doing anything in his power to stop the madness.

His whole body shook as he picked up the extremely moronic note and went to meet his destiny.

Was it him or was there more blood coloring the walls in stupid, clowny, absolutely terrifying clowny faces? Would he ever again be able to see that stupid, nosed smile and not feel fear down to his core?

Something caught Karkat's eye as he turned the corner and he stopped short. His breath caught in his throat, it felt like someone had punched all the air out of his lungs. There, right before his eyes, larger than life was Nepeta's shipping wall... and the warship of ships was... a mural sized drawing of her and him... redrom... Watered down crimson tears washed down his cheeks, a feeling so hard to describe, impossible to put into words... Nepeta... but... it was too late... and... and... no, he wouldn't think about it. He wouldn't tarnish her memory that way.

Knowing the end was just around the corner, knowing that he would probably have to kill his best friend in mere moments, Karkat hesitated before the shipping wall.

It was every pairing imaginable for the 12 of them to fit every quadrant. Some of them had been 'x'd out as being too ridiculous to be possible, others had been circled with the obviousness of the pair pictured fitting utterly and perfectly into the desired quadrant... Despite the dire situation he couldn't help but silently chuckle at the idiocy and depravity of some of these suggested pairs. Oh Nepeta...

Karkat frowned, blinked, and stared... The wall was nearly completely free of Gamzee's macabre artistry. The wall was almost completely free of blood... nearly...

There was only bloody mark on an of the ridiculously long wall... he noticed it the third glance over. A single clowny smile face in Gamzee blood had been smeared over the drawing of himself and Gamzee in the pale quadrant... You used to think it was the stupidest thought ne could ever think. Him and Gamzee as moirails. He one considered the Juggalo as an endless source of rage and annoyance, he might have even thought of Gamzee as his kismesis if the thought hadn't turned his stomach. Gamzee had left his mark there... only there... Why only there...?

Only there...

It washed over him like an epiphany... and with it came a vast calm over his entire body. The anger he didn't know was always ringing in his ears suddenly calmed and his fears were calmed with it.

Suddenly he understood... he understood what he had to do and he was no longer afraid. He touched the painting, his hand right over the pale diamond... He knew exactly what he had to do...

Shooooooooossssssh...

End!

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